Fear Itself
by tripling fall down
Summary: He’s not sure what he’s truly afraid of...[Zemyx, oneshot]


(Summary) Fear is a strange thing indeed...

(Disclaimer) Definitely not mine. They belong to the Square Enix Gods. And, no, no I'm not creative enough to make this disclaimer cooler. You'll just have to deal.

(A/N) Second fanfic posted here. Sort of a mystery pairing? Was supposed to be funny...failed completely. So instead you have a kind of melancholic drivel. Edited: Hopefully all the tenses are right this time.

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**Fear Itself**

He's not afraid – of course he's not afraid. It'd be stupid to be afraid. Stupid! And even if he were afraid he wouldn't tell anyone. He'd sew his own mouth shut before telling anyone because already he can hear their laughter. If he had a heart it'd be cringing.

So he's not afraid. He's been through all the rousing talks with Xemnas, only just managing not to fall asleep during the last one. He'd seen a few other eyes close to falling – hell Axel hadn't even been _subtle _about it when he started snoring. The new kid had been cool as – how did that saying go? Cucumber? He thinks it'd be better as 'ice cream' because ice cream is _cold_, not just cool. And the kid, he's sure his name is Oxas, or Soxas, he's _cold_. Like blizzard cold.

If he had a heart it'd be shivering.

Thank God he hasn't got one then.

Saïx has already got his weapon out, ready to go hack off a few heads. Axel is almost _grinning_ with anticipation – what better thing to do on a Friday afternoon than chop up a few Heartless?

He wants to run down the halls screaming something like 'I don't wanna go! I don't wanna go!' He wants to stay here in the safety of the castle but somehow he doubts anyone will listen. So he has to go.

Taking a deep breath he starts walking down the endless white corridors only for a hand to grab hold of his hood.

He chokes of course, because the material around his throat is digging in and he can't _breathe_ and when he finds out who the other is he's going to do something particularly nasty—

The hand lets go and he stumbles a few steps forward before catching himself. His dignity is already gone but he still straightens himself and wipes suddenly sweaty hands on his robes.

"Oh, it's you." The voice is calm, hell it's almost _serene _and it knocks him off kilter for a moment.

He says the first thing that comes to mind of course. "Er...shouldn't you be dead? Like, ah, dead-dead? In the ground, nailed into a coffin dead?" Did Nobodies even _get _coffins?

A careless rise and fall of shoulders as the other shrugs, the movement still somehow seeming graceful.

"Oh, well, that's okay. I mean, hey! Who doesn't want to live and...all...that. Man, you sure picked a bad time to do this." He sighs, looking down the corridor at where everyone has suddenly disappeared. He should be gone, he needs to leave but for some reason his feet seemed glued to the ground. He could use this as an excuse maybe – hell, what better excuse was there than your dead lover has somehow resurrected himself?

"So, ah, are you...really alive?" He hates how unsure his voice sounds, and how hopeful he feels as the other turns properly in his direction. It's a gaze full of calm serenity and he wants to sneeze on it just to show how inappropriate it is.

Instead he coughs, "Are you...staying long?" The other still hasn't spoken and it's making him _nervous_. So nervous his fingers are plucking at the strings of his sitar and the notes are anything but beautiful. They're messy and all over the place and he can see the frown forming on the other's face.

Great! An emotion at last.

A hand reaches out and grasps his and he stifles a grin at the feeling. Skin on skin, warmth on warmth. Except the other is cold. Cool as cucumber maybe.

"Demyx..." The sound is whispered, as if it's coming from afar. He shivers and moves closer, wanting to breach the sudden distance.

"Hey, you finally spoke! It was kind of rude before, you know, not to speak and all. Axel would be—"

He's interrupted. He _hates _being interrupted. But then, it is him so...he'll forgive him. You can't stay angry at the dead after all. Right? "Demyx."

"Yeah?" He doesn't like how small his voice seems all of a sudden. Hell, he doesn't like it _at all _- hopefully the other won't notice.

"What are you afraid of?" The question knocks him and he's floundering, unsure of what to say. It's a question loaded with meaning. Or that could just be him.

He doesn't know the answer. At times he thinks everything. He's afraid of everything. At others...what _is_ he afraid of? Heartless? Xemnas? Not really...So then what? He shakes his head, he doesn't want to think about at it. So instead he tries to change the subject.

"I...er...hey! Why are we talking about me when you're standing there and...uh...you _are _standing there right?" He's skeptical because, well, the guy did _die_ on him, what's he supposed to feel like? Now all of a sudden he's back and he wants to scream and jump and kiss him but...the distance won't allow it.

"For a while, yes." Demyx nods because, well, he'd known this. Somehow he had already realised that the other was going to leave him. It was all par the course, people crept under your skin, wrapped you around their fingers and then left. This was no different. If he had a heart it'd break.

He repeats the question, somehow quieter this time and Demyx has to struggle to hear it. "What are you afraid of?"

It takes a while before he answers and by then he can see the fuzzy outline. It's like a shadow around a silhouette, strange and otherworldly. And dead. He couldn't forget dead.

Was that what he was afraid of? Death? Answers whirled in his head but none of them seemed quite right. It was something he couldn't quite catch, just out of reach but taunting him with the truth. It drove him insane and he shook his head vigorously.

"So, when are you leaving?" Another shrug, a flick of hair as the other tucks it behind his ear. Demyx's hand reaches out on it's own volition and he touches it himself. Soft, like it had always been. It flows through his fingers like water until all he's left with is nothing but air. Just like the real thing.

"Soon."

"How soon?"

Another shrug. "I want an answer Demyx."

He can't _not _answer, not when the other looks almost _pleadingly _at him. His mouth opens and the word came out before he could stop it, "Death."

An eyebrow rises. "Just death?"

Demyx nods. The answer encompasses everything he fears. Pain, endless pain, the gaps in your heart where people take chunks away for themselves. Except he _has _no heart so he shouldn't feel that but he does. The other has a piece of his heart – and he knows it.

A hand reaches out again, this time it touches his chest, right over where his heart should be. "If you're so afraid of death you can't live."

Demyx snorts, "Yeah, like you're an expert. You're already _dead _after all." He emphasies the word, waiting for the other to flinch, to cringe – anything, but he merely lowers his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

He gapes. He can't help it, his mouth drops open in shock and his eyes widen. "You're sorry?"

The other nods. "Yes, I'm...sorry. But I'll be waiting for you."

"Waiting? Waiting where!" The shadows darken, becoming thicker as they encompass the figure before him. He reaches out desperately but his fingers slip and he pulls them back.

"Hey! You haven't given me any words of advice yet!" Wasn't that how these things went? A figure came back from the dead, ripped you apart once more but then fixed it again? Demyx still feels like he's bleeding and the other hasn't done _anything_ to help.

A smirk and the other is raising his hand – to say goodbye. "You want advice?"

"Yes!" He feels adamant, annoyed. Hell he _deserves _advice, not the half-smirk the other is giving him, or the eyes that are filled with amusement. He doesn't like the other laughing at him. So instead he frowns.

He can almost _see_ the other thinking for a moment before he raises his head, looks Demyx right into the eyes. "Hold onto that fear Demyx. It'll help." And then he's gone, _gone_. And Demyx is just left with shadows.

So he laughs because, really, it's the only thing he _can_ do. Just laugh, and laugh and laugh.

"Damn Zexion..." And all he's left with is air.

.end.

--

Not so much of a mystery pairing is it anymore?

(edited: 28 June 08)


End file.
